Dusting the Shelf
by She is Divine
Summary: Outtakes, missing scenes, and other goodies for the story, "When the Dust Settles."
1. Christmas Cheer

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Twilight, or its characters, in any way, shape, or form. Stephenie Meyer does. Instead, we teach them to do tricks with promises of fudge.

**A/N**: A big thank you to nowforruin for making good use of her red pen on this one.

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><p><strong>Christmas Cheer<strong>

"Please?"

"No."

"Aw, come on, Rusty. Please?"

"I said no."

"How much do I have to pay you?"

He sighed. "You can't pay me to celebrate Christmas, Jake. Either you want to or you don't. And I really, really don't want to."

"But why? Christmas is everything that is awesome – great food, presents, time off, family, snow, and trees in the living room. What more could you possibly want?"

"Well, since you're asking, I'd fucking love it if just one of those things were actually here. The food is shit, we get no presents except if the Taliban camouflage a bomb for us, no time off, no family, snow doesn't do well in this stinking heat and godforsaken dust, and even if we had trees, we have no living room to put them in, do we?"

I rolled my eyes. "Details."

He snorted and examined what he'd picked up from his plate with his fork. I wasn't quite sure what it was either. If I remembered correctly, they'd told us that it was meatloaf. I'd yet to find the meat or the loaf. All I could taste was ketchup, because if it wasn't obvious what they served to us, I'd automatically drown it in the red stuff. At least then you knew what that was.

Jones sat down next to me. "Hey, Swan. You might wanna inhale that ketchup slobber. Mail's here."

"Woohoo! Cookies!" I took time for a fist pump before shoveling more food into my mouth. It was foul, but a guy couldn't live off cookies alone. Unfortunately. I had tried, so I knew what I was talking about.

"Any news from Atlanta?" I asked. Jones was reading a letter while he ate, and the least the guy could do was share. Honestly, man. Entertainment came in stamped envelopes there, and whoever had the good stuff shared. That was how it was.

"Well…" He smirked. "They've got this thing there. Don't know if you've ever heard of it as it appears to be a local custom. It's called Christmas."

"Really? That sounds awesome. What is it?" I asked, turning the sarcasm up full volume. I could practically hear Rusty rolling his eyes.

"Let me just see what my girlfriend's writing. Ah, yes. Here it is. It involves trees inside the house, eating a lot of good food, giving presents to your friends and family, and singing songs. If it's ideal, it involves snow, too."

"That sounds like a party. I'm in! How about you, Rusty? Put a tree inside your house and sing a song?"

"Oh! There's turkey, too. Isn't it like that other thing, you know, with the pumpkins and stuff?" Jones asked, wide-eyed.

"Easter?" I suggested. "No wait, that's eggs."

"Christ," Rusty moaned. "Don't turn in your uniforms. You'd starve if you took that show on the road."

I lifted a forkful of…what was it again? Oh, right. Drowned meatloaf. "We could just as easily starve here. At least, if we went on the road as comedians, we might come to a place where they have that Christmas thing."

"Dude, that stopped being funny an hour ago," he told me.

"We hadn't mentioned it an hour ago."

"Exactly."

"You, Cullen, are a cross between the Grinch and Scrooge. It's not pretty," Jones said.

"Sounds good," Rusty replied. "I'd be fucking worried if you thought I was pretty."

Snickering, I pushed my plate away. "Anyway. I'm full. Time for cookies and mail. Come on, Rusty."

"I'm your dog now?" he asked, picking up his tray and standing. Then he picked up mine, too. "No, wait. I'm your slave apparently."

"Stop whining like a girl. I'll share my cookies."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how you shut up Edward Cullen.

I hummed _Jingle Bells_ while we walked across the camp. There was nothing like Christmas to make a guy homesick as a little kid on their first sleepover. In my head, I could smell freshly baked cookies and mulled wine. I could almost ignore the dry heat and feel the cold slapping against my cheeks like when we waded through the snow in the forest in search of the perfect Christmas tree. And man, did I have the pickiest mom in the world when it came to Christmas trees. She'd caused several almost-frostbites in the Swan family. It had to be perfect. And while I didn't see why it had to be so damn perfect when it got covered with ornaments anyway, a trip to the desert made me appreciate the crusade she had been on with making Christmas all kinds of awesome. Traditions mattered even if I hadn't realized it before I'd have to go without them. Traditions, family, and a certain way of life were what we were fighting for so far away from home, after all. I kicked a stone on the ground, sending it flying. Stupid war. It was fucking rude to keep a guy from Christmas.

"Merry Christmas!" I greeted the mail dude. I saw him often, but I had no idea what his name was.

"If you say so," he muttered and turned to get my mail. He definitely knew who I was. Jake Swan was fucking legendary when it came to mail.

"Someone's getting coal in their stocking," I said as he returned with three packages for me. I was _that_ awesome.

"There's a letter for you, Cullen," mail dude said, sounding almost surprised.

However, if he was surprised, Rusty was in shock. He took the letter and turned it over in his hand.

"Who's it from?" I asked. Could someone from his shittastic family have grown an actual heart?

"No idea. Someone named Madge in Nebraska."

I snickered. "Madge? Really? Is that your secret cougar sugar mama?"

"Obviously," he deadpanned. "Seriously, I don't know anyone in Nebraska, and I sure as hell don't know anyone named Madge. It's got to be a mistake."

"It's your name on the envelope, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes." He looked at the envelope again. "It's probably a relative or something of someone we…lost."

I cringed. It sucked donkey balls that those were the only kind of letters he ever got. And did that Madge woman have to write him just in time for Christmas with her questions about her fallen grandson or whatever? Rusty was moody enough as it was.

"Just open it and get it over with. Then you can help me eat some cookies before we report for duty."

Sighing, he did just that, but frowned when he started reading the letter. "What the…oh, hell. Chief, I swear to God that if you're responsible for this, I'll fucking blow up every damn cookie your family sends you."

"Hey! No hating the cookies." I clutched my boxes. "And what the hell are you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

"It's a letter from some woman who, and I quote, 'takes pride in sending _poor, lonely soldiers_ letters for Christmas.' Tell me you didn't sign me up for some pity program."

"Aw, that's kinda sweet. You know, if she hadn't called you poor and lonely. But I didn't have anything to do with it. I swear. If I'd thought of it, I would have made my mom write you instead or something."

"Your mom…yeah…" He laughed humorlessly and looked at the letter again. "Christ, Jake. I never in a million years thought it would be like this."

"What?"

He shook his head, looking very tired all of the sudden. "Nothing. Gimme that cookie."

I hesitated for only a second. I could have pressured him to talk about it – turned it into some girly session with hugs and shit. But we were dudes, and he was asking for a cookie. He'd talk when he wanted to talk. Until then, it was cookie time.

I handed him a box and attacked another one myself. "Here, you open this one."

"Dude, I'm not opening your mail."

I stared at him. "Are you for real? I'm right here _and_ asking you to do it. I won't call the MPs, I promise. Christ. You're a real grandma."

He snorted and handed the box back. "I'm still not opening it."

"You want me to chew your cookie, too, so you don't strain yourself or wear on your teeth?"

"Open the damn box, Jake."

Shaking my head, I pulled off all the packing tape. Something told me that Emmett had helped Rose wrap the box because he believed in excessive use of tape – packing tape, duct tape – hell, I'd seen him tie stuff together with old video tapes. I smiled as I thought of him. I missed him. The Army was missing out by not letting him in. From when we were toddlers, we'd done pretty much everything together, so it had been weird not to have him around. He'd done well for himself in college and finally looked past Rose's clumsiness to see the wonderful girl hiding underneath. He'd found a lot of cool Seattle friends, too. His roommate from college sounded pretty awesome, even if he seemed to have the most annoying girlfriend in the world.

The first thing I saw when I opened the box was fudge. Peanut butter and white chocolate fudge. I moaned. I was so going back home and winning Rose away from Emmett. I fucking loved fudge. I nearly swallowed the first piece whole and then offered the plastic box to Rusty. The next thing I pulled out made me laugh. It was a small Christmas stocking filled with coal. I threw that at Rusty, too.

"What the hell is that?" he asked after moaning appreciatively over the fudge, too.

"My best friend trying to be a comedian."

"I like him," Rusty decided. "If you must make us all suffer through Christmas, you deserve coal. Just the fact that he's sent it halfway across the world makes him awesome."

"Yeah, yeah." I took out one of the two letters in the box and started reading. Emmett had exciting news – he'd proposed to Rose, and after accidentally dropping the ring and kneeing him in the groin, she'd said yes. That made me laugh – fucker deserved a knee in the groin after sending me coal. I knew I could count on Rosie.

"What?" Rusty asked when I whooped out loud for the third time – first at reading about the engagement of two people that I loved very much, then the knee in the groin, and then the grand finale.

"I get to be the best man when two of my best friends tie the knot next year. How fucking awesome is that? They are getting the most embarrassing best man's speech ever." I grinned to myself, and for the first time, I was happy that Emmett wasn't in the Army and deployed somewhere dangerous. Rose deserved her man home safe and bravely trying to avoid paper cuts in his office.

"Be nice," Rusty told me.

"Why? I've collected embarrassing stories about them my whole life. I gotta use 'em for something." Digging back into the box, I found two kinds of cookies and chocolate. Okay, so maybe I'd cut back on the embarrassing stories about Rose and just praise the fact that she was a saint. Emmett, on the other hand, I'd crucify for the coal. I snickered as I took a bite of a sugar cookie.

There was no time to open the boxes from my parents and Bella before we had to report for duty. I filled my pockets with cookies and told Rusty to do the same before I stored the boxes under my bed. After patrol duty, there'd be an epic sugar cookie battle. I'd asked my mom, Bella, and Rose to send me sugar cookies, and now it was judgment day where I tested who made the best ones. If Rusty was nice, I'd even make him my co-judge.

As it turned out, patrol was not patrol. It was The Epic Anti-Christmas Mob who spent the entire time raining heavily and thoroughly on Jake Swan's parade. Morons. I knew why everyone was so hell bent on being anti-Christmas – they thought it made it easier to be stuck in the desert for the holidays. But it didn't. Nothing made that easier. So I was washing the disappointment down with cookies and Christmas tunes no matter what. And maybe a little pouting. A guy could pout if everyone was out to bring down his Christmas spirits, right?

So I pouted. And then I pouted some more because no one was giving a crap. It was Christmas Eve the following day, and all the guys were talking about was unimportant crap like deep sea diving, Bruce Willis movies, and hot dogs. Hot dogs! They should be talking about turkey and cookies. Oh. Cookies! I had cookies to judge and letters to read. There were probably also presents. Why the hell was I wasting my time listening to people talk about hot dogs? I nearly ran over to the barracks.

Cookies! Cookies! Cookies!

Inside, however, I forgot all about cookies. There was a…thing…next to my bunk. And next to the thing was Rusty, looking like he'd broken the cranky neighbor's window while playing soccer. I frowned and looked at the thing again. _Wait. _It wasn't a thing, it was a…a…. I cracked a smile.

A Christmas tree.

The tree – if you could call it that – was some kind of dead shrubbery. It looked sad and hilarious at the same time, but what struck me the most was the thought behind it. Rusty didn't mean it as a joke – he was trying to cheer me up. I didn't actually need cheering up as I'd just been pouting for the heck of it, but if I had needed it, it would have worked.

The tree – and I did call it that – was decorated with empty candy wrappers, socks that looked like mine and as a result definitely were dirty, toilet paper, and a soda can as the topper. Cherry Coke. Underneath were a couple of lumps of toilet paper wrapped around something. Presents maybe?

"What's this?" I asked, looking over at Rusty.

"Um…Christmas?"

The way he made it sound like a question had me almost laughing, but I caught myself. I knew that Rusty was pretending that Christmas didn't exist—it warmed my heart that he was trying to make me smile.

"Never mind. It was a stupid idea anyway," Rusty said, picking the tree up and walking toward the door.

"Wait!" I called out. "Don't take away the Charlie Brown Christmas tree!"

He looked back down at the tree. "Shit, it does look like that pathetic excuse for a tree. Fuck."

I snickered at him. "Dude, leave it. It's perfect. I can't wait to brag to everyone back home that I had a better tree than them."

Rusty snorted and sat it back down. "You're an idiot. It's not better. Not by a long shot."

"Emmett and I always wanted a tree like Charlie Brown had when we were kids," I said, motioning to the tree. "We loved that and the toys on the island for misfits. Mom and Dad always rolled their eyes at us and said that we were not getting something that would shed all over the house."

"Charlie Brown trees and misfit toys? No wonder you won't leave me alone." Rusty ran a hand over his face.

I ignored his depreciating comment. "So, what did you get me?"

"Jars of sand," Rusty said in a monotone voice.

"Awesome. I can take some of the desert home with me."

Rusty shook his head and smiled. "Nothing gets you down, does it?"

"Nope."

I rubbed my hands together. "So, seriously, what did I get?"

Rusty sat down on his bunk, refusing to answer. He was acting just like my mom did before Christmas morning. I loved presents, but I had no patience whatsoever. Every time I asked what my parents had gotten me, she'd tell me to knock it off and go play. By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, she'd point upstairs when I'd try to get the information from her. I never understood why they had the presents under the tree before Christmas, anyway. Didn't they know it was mean to put out gifts and not let me open them?

"Fine. Here." He walked over, picked up the presents wrapped in toilet paper, and handed them to me. I bounced on the bed and began unwrapping. _Sweet_. Inside the packages were a tube of toothpaste and a coupon to use Bob for a full week, no questions asked. The coupon was enough to get me excited, because I could think of all kinds of pranks Bob and I—and Rusty, of course—could pull. I was also almost out of toothpaste, and it meant I didn't need to make a trip to the commissary. Ugh. I hated going to the commissary. They had no sense of humor whatsoever, and I was tired of being followed around like a toddler.

Rusty was staring at me with his arms crossed and a slight worried look on his face. I smiled at him. "Thanks! You, me, and Bob are going to have _so_ much fun!"

He groaned and hung his head. "Damn it. The coupon is for Bob. Not me."

I snorted. "I have the perfect plan to get back at the kitchen staff for making us eat the slobber they serve. Are you really going to tell me that you're not interested?"

He ignored me, just like he always did when I came up with an awesome plan. Rusty knew he was going to do it, though. I was certain he secretly loved helping me pull pranks.

I set down my items and pulled the boxes I'd yet to open from under my bed. What to get Rusty? I didn't really bring anything with me, other than the necessities, when I entered the Army, and if I'd known we were going to exchange presents, I'd have gotten him something. Ripping open the box Bella sent, I thought maybe Rusty would appreciate some cookies. Rusty was the only person I trusted to help judge the fuckawesome amount of sugar cookies I had, anyway.

As I pulled out a small tin and a letter, something else caught my eye. Inside was the lucky coin I'd carried with me since I was seven. Emmett and I had been screwing around one day by the train tracks, and I found it between one of the slats in the track. I'd somehow convinced myself that day, because it hadn't been flattened and still looked perfect, it held some sort of magic power. I'd come to my senses since that time, but it still held a lot of sentimental value for me. I loved Bella even more for sending it, and I knew it was the perfect thing to give my grumpy commanding officer/best friend. If anyone needed a little luck in their life, it was that man.

"So, since you didn't tell me we were getting each other anything, I didn't have time to wrap this. I want you to have it." I held the coin in my hand out, palm side up.

He peered down at it. "I can't accept it. Your family sent it for you, not me."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Dude, I've had this thing for years. It's not a present to me. It's already mine."

"And why are you giving me a fucking coin?"

"Because it's lucky."

Rusty huffed and sat down. "Then I really can't take it. I'll jinx the damn thing."

"Will you quit being such a sourpuss? You're my friend, and I want you to have the coin. End of story. Besides, you'll hurt my feelings if you don't' take it."

He snatched it out of my hand, turning it over and inspecting it with a slight smile. I went back to opening boxes while I thought about how that was the only thing Rusty would probably get for Christmas. I really wished that I could practice target shooting with the people he called family, because Rusty didn't deserve to be forgotten, especially around the holidays. He was a good guy, and it made me sad to know some people out there didn't appreciate what they had.

A thought formed in my head. But could he be persuaded for what I had in mind?

Just a few days before, Rusty and I had found out when our tours would be up. I was planning on going back to Forks, and he had talked about signing another contract. At the time, I couldn't believe that he was even thinking it, because who really wanted to stay in this godforsaken place? Sitting there and watching him show some sort of gratitude over a hunk of metal that probably didn't mean anything to anyone else besides him and me, I figured that—_maybe_—he was staying just so he didn't have to face the fact that his family probably didn't want him.

I was one persuasive motherfucker when I wanted to be, and I decided it didn't matter if he wanted to or not. I was going to ask him to come home with me. My family was awesome, and they'd love him. My mother alone would make up for all the shit he'd ever been through. That woman was a goddess.

The only thing left to do was figure out how to pull it off.

"Hey, Rusty," I said, opening up the tin. "I have a competition going on back home. Mom, Bella, and Rose sent me a crap ton of sugar cookies. Care to help me figure out who's the winner?"

I held out the container, and Rusty snatched one up. "I'll do my best. But, just so you know, I'm voting for your mom now. From what you told me about her, that woman scares me."

I laughed. Yes, Rusty was going to fit right in my little family back in Forks.

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><p><strong>AN: **We'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year - we hope you'll be having a wonderful holiday season. Thank you so much for your support on our little, Dusty adventure. We'll be back with lots more in the new year!


	2. Army Green

**Disclaimer:** We do not claim ownership for Twilight or any of its characters. Stephenie Meyer gets that privilege. However, we do have to take responsibility for sending the Army recruiter into Edward's past, thus enabling him to some day meet Jake. If we hadn't, we'd have no story, so we're not sorry.

**A/N: **This outtake (hopefully) helped raise money for the Texas Wildfires Relief. Thank you to wonderful members of the Dust team – jointgifts, nowforruin, and sherryola. They make Rusty make sense. The song at the end of the outtake is called "The Army Goes Rolling Along," also known as just "The Army Song," and is the official song of the United States Army.

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><p><strong>Army Green<strong>

**Edward POV**

College. College applications. College tours. Dorm rooms. Course load. GPA. Sororities. Fraternities. Acceptance letters. Professors. TAs. Lectures. Career. Future.

The whole thing was giving me daily migraines. Everyone seemed to know exactly what they wanted and had their lives all mapped out – from where they wanted to go to college and what they wanted to study, to what they wanted it to say on their fucking tombstone when they died in their peaceful sleep at age ninety-four surrounded by their seventeen great-grandchildren.

Me – I didn't have a fucking clue. Jasper had been trying to convince me that I should go to law school after college with him, but that shit was just not going to fly. First of all, he was only choosing pre-law because he wanted to impress my dad, who had it in his head that medicine and law were the only _really _respectable careers for a man. Jasper was squeamish as fuck, so law was his ticket to getting my dad's blessing to marry my sister. Second, I didn't want to study anything that would lock me up in an office or a courtroom until I retired. _No way._ My twin sister, Alice, wanted to be on TV. As a kid, she had wanted to become an actress, but over the years, my dad had influenced her in the direction of news anchor or reporter. She didn't seem to mind – she was vain and just wanted her face on TV.

I had no ambitions of being on TV, and no matter how many unsubtle hints my dad dropped, I was also not about to follow in his footsteps and study medicine. I wasn't squeamish like Jasper, but having had to endure my dad and his colleagues growing up, I had yet to meet a doctor who didn't act like he thought he was better than everyone else. I was not about to become a carbon copy of my dad.

No matter which career paths I considered, they only made me cringe and want to run away screaming. There was nothing I wanted, and that fact made my parents extremely disappointed. They had raised Alice and me to be ambitious, and by then, they were sure they had failed with me. I didn't think they had – I had plenty of ambitions. They just weren't the ambitions my parents wanted me to have. I had ambitions of being a good person and treating people right, of being happy, and of being true to myself. None of those ambitions would be fulfilled by becoming a doctor instead of a garbage collector, or a lawyer instead of a cab driver.

The idea of going to college just for the sake of it sounded really boring. I knew it was the smart thing to do, but I wasn't sure it was the _right_ thing to do. At least not for me. I did my own research while the medical school and pre-med brochures my dad brought me piled up under my desk. After hours of Googling and going through articles, books, college websites, and whatever else I could find that might lead me in the direction of a future career, I zeroed in on a few things that sounded like they might be for me.

"You want what?" Jasper asked, nearly spitting out his beer when I told him my tentative plans for the future. "Dude, your dad is gonna kill you if you don't go to college."

"Maybe he'll realize that he can't mold me into being his clone or whatever," I said with a shrug. "I'd be doing a lot of good and helping people, you know. I think that's what I want."

"But dude, you could get killed. Cops get shot all the time, and a fireman – really?" Jasper shook his head before taking a sip of beer. "Why would you want to willingly go into a burning building, man?"

"Someone has to," I replied and closed my eyes. We were lounging in the sun in Jasper's yard. His parents were away for the weekend, and we took the fact that the sun graced us with its presence as a sign to drink beers outside instead of inside.

"But does it have to be you?" Jasper asked.

"No," I admitted. "It doesn't have to be me. But it could be me, and I think I'd like it to be."

Jasper didn't reply, but he didn't have to. I knew him well enough to interpret his silence. He thought I was crazy.

I didn't think considering becoming a police officer or a firefighter was crazy – nor did I think it was anything to be disappointed about like I knew my parents would be. I just had to figure out exactly which way to go.

I wrestled with the decision for weeks. I had decided not to tell my parents what I was going to do until I knew for sure. There was no need to defend two things when I would only end up doing one. It was Career Day that ended up being my savior. The booths were filled with overly peppy people trying to make their companies sound like the best thing since sliced bread. It was all a load of crap. Jasper and I were only going because it presented a chance to get the registration for the Selective Service System out of the way. It wasn't really something I had given any thought except for wanting to get it over with.

Then I asked an Army recruiter an innocent question about the process, and that made him launch into a longwinded speech about all the Army had to offer. What took me most by surprise was that I didn't just shut him out. I actually listened, and the more he told me, the more I could see myself in what he described. There were so many options within the Army, and they all held the promise of making a difference – of doing something good. Something finally felt right to me. It was almost exhilarating.

"Edward, come _on_," Alice whined, interrupting what I felt might very well be the most important conversation of my life. I hadn't even noticed her joining us.

"Go away, Alice," I said, turning my back to her. There was nothing worse than annoying, whiny sisters.

The recruiter probably sensed that he was getting through to me. He kept handing me brochures and pamphlets while talking about honor and loyalty. I liked how he described the unique bond between soldiers, created as early as in basic training. Another thing that appealed to me was that being in the Army wasn't just combat. You could be anything. A mechanic, a computer specialist, a journalist, a medic, a parachute rigger, a translator – the list seemed endless.

Half an hour later, I drove home alone. Jasper had given into Alice's whining about leaving while I was talking to the recruiter. Thoughts were swirling around in my head, and even though I knew I had a lot to consider, by the time I turned into our driveway, I knew my mind was basically made up already. In all my soul and internet searching, I hadn't even come close to finding anything that felt as right as this.

I had never given any thought to serving my country before. No one I knew was in the military, and there was no long, proud line of Cullens before me who had worn a uniform. I took out one of the pamphlets the recruiter had given me and looked at the list of values on the front page. _Loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal courage_. I wanted that. I wanted to live up to those values. Surely if I did that, I wouldn't be a bad person.

I grabbed all the stuff the recruiter had given me and went inside. I felt like I was smuggling contraband, but I didn't want anyone to see the brochures. At least not yet. I might need them when I had to convince my parents that I wasn't about to throw away my entire future. I doubted they'd see any pride in their only son serving his country, but I figured they'd come around eventually no matter how pissed they got.

I threw myself on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. There really was no doubt in my mind. Just the thought of joining made me smile – this after months and months of cringing about colleges and jobs.

The sound of my phone ringing distracted me. I fished it out from my pocket and looked at the caller ID. _Heidi._ I sighed. Someone else who would not be thrilled about what I was deciding to do after graduation. We had been dating for four months, which had broken my previous dating record by three months and two weeks. Things had been going great until I had tentatively aired my plans for the future – or maybe it was the _lack_ of plans that had made her act weird.

I answered the phone a little reluctantly, but I didn't want to be an asshole and ignore her. She didn't deserve that.

I didn't even have time to say hello before she tore into me. "What the hell, Edward? Irina just called me and told me that you'd spent most of the afternoon at the Army booth. Seriously, aren't you taking this rebellion thing you've got going on a bit far?"

"Excuse me?" I said, sitting up in bed. When I had told her about maybe becoming a firefighter or a police officer, she had been mildly supportive and only once tried to convince me to go to college first. This was…unexpected.

"Everyone is going to college," she said with a sigh. "And not everyone wants to. It's just something you do, Edward."

"Maybe I don't want to do something just because everyone else does it," I said, annoyed. "I don't tell you what to do, so why can't you do me the same favor?"

"Whatever," she said. "You're so immature."

"At least I've got the guts to do what I want instead of what other people want me to do," I argued. "Why are you going to college again, Heidi?"

"Ugh, you're impossible to talk to. Just go get killed in a war or something. See if I care," she said and hung up.

I threw my phone on the bed. Who the hell needed unsupportive girlfriends anyway? She was just like everyone else – mindless animals following the flock. Maybe when I was off making a real difference in the world while she was vomiting at a frat party, she'd see things differently.

I allowed myself a few minutes lamenting the fact that Heidi hadn't been who I thought she was. But maybe breaking things off now was better than trying the long distance thing we had been talking about. It obviously wouldn't have worked.

Then my thoughts drifted to everything the recruiter had told me, and I started considering what path I might want to take. The idea of going into combat appealed to me because I felt I could make a much bigger difference there than behind a desk or in a motor pool somewhere. No matter how much my parents protested, I'd make them proud by doing something noble. They'd eventually realize that I was doing the right thing.

That didn't mean that I knew how to tell them, though. Luckily, there wasn't any rush. I had applied to colleges like everyone else, and the acceptance letters that had started to come in the mail would hopefully keep them off my back for a bit until I found out exactly how to make them see that I was serious about the Army. I smiled to myself. It was amazing to finally be passionate about something – to know what I wanted and that it was the right thing for me.

"Alice says you were talking to an Army recruiter," my dad said during dinner. "Did you get your registration for the Selective Service System taken care of?"

I glared at Alice. The little brat looked smug, so she knew I hadn't just been doing the registration. And now she'd tattled on me before I'd had a chance to prepare what I was going to tell my parents.

"Yes, I did," I replied carefully.

"But you took forever," Alice said, doing a perfect imitation of a dumb blonde – she just needed her hair dyed. "Jasper was done right away, and you just kept talking and talking to that soldier guy."

I could feel my parents looking at me. "Was there a problem with the registration? I'd be happy to call an-"

"No. No problem, Dad," I interrupted. "I was just asking some questions and listening to what he had to say, that's all."

"Why would you waste your time doing _that_?" my mom asked, wrinkling her nose.

"I thought it was interesting," I answered and sipped my water while considering if now was a good time to tell them or not. They were going to blow a gasket no matter when or how I told them that I wasn't going to college. I would have liked to be better prepared, but God only knew what Alice might blurt next just to get me in trouble.

"Interesting?" my dad questioned, stabbing a carrot on his plate forcefully. "I really wish you'd stop procrastinating and make up your mind about where you'll go after graduation. Just because all the acceptance letters aren't in yet doesn't mean that you can't start prioritizing. It's an important decision that will shape the rest of your life. Alice started the moment she got her first letter."

I looked up, half-expecting a ray of divine light to shine through the ceiling and a choir of angels singing _hallelujah._ My dad loved to hear himself talk, especially when he could lecture someone.

"I know it's an important decision, Dad, and I really have been giving it a lot of thought." I took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not going to college. I'm g-"

"You're _not_ going to college?" my dad asked calmly – too calmly, interrupting me. "Are you completely out of your mind, boy? You can't possibly think that we're going to let you throw away your future just because of some foolish notion you've gotten into your stupid head."

"If you'd just let me fini-"

"I will not let you finish!" he interrupted again. "I will also not let you ruin your life. What, pray tell, were you thinking you would do instead of attending college? Work at McDonald's?"

I blew out a breath. Alice was looking smug – she was probably thrilled that Dad had stopped _nudging_ her toward something more respectable than her vain TV dreams. It didn't look like I'd get any support from my mom, either. She looked like she'd drunk vinegar.

"I'm joining the Army," I said confidently.

"No, you're not," my mom said quickly. We all looked at her, and her eyes were trained on me like a missile launcher. "You are not joining any damn Army and getting yourself killed. You are going to college."

"No, Mom. Dad. I'm sorry, but my mind is made up," I said.

My dad snorted. "Your mind is made up just because you talked to some Army recruiter today. Be serious, Edward. That's no reason to suddenly throw away all plans of college."

"I've known for a while that I wasn't gonna go to college," I explained. "I was considering either becoming a police officer or a fireman. But hearing about the Army today…Dad, it just fits. It's the right thing for me. I can feel it."

"If this is some sort of adrenaline hunt, then spend the summer bungee jumping or sky diving. But go to college in the fall!" he insisted.

I shook my head. "It's got nothing to do with adrenaline. I want to serve – to make a difference. I want to help people."

"Then study medicine," my dad said. "Who knows, you might be the one to find a cure for cancer. Or work as an ER doctor or a surgeon – you'll be helping people that way, too, and not risking your own life in the process. Medicine is a future – the Army is just a stupid idea you've gotten into your head, and one day you'll look back and regret that you didn't get an education."

"I can get an education in the Army. I might even go to college! This is just really something I want," I said. "It feels so right that I need to do it."

No one said anything. Alice was eating like nothing had happened, and my parents were having some kind of silent conversation. I was not going to back down – after defending my decision, I was even more certain it was what I wanted. Heidi could dump me all she wanted, my parents could be as disappointed as they cared to be, and Alice could be her usual bratty self. I was going to be wearing a uniform soon.

"We can't support that," my dad finally said, breaking into my thoughts. "We wanted to give you an education, but if you're going to throw that away, you're on your own. Choose wisely, Edward."

Well, hell. I had expected them to get mad, but not to be tossed out with the trash. So much for unconditional love and support. It wasn't like I was doing something stupid. Serving your country was an honorable thing.

I swallowed hard. "I've already made my decision."

My mom looked away immediately, and my dad nodded curtly before doing the same. He and Alice kept eating, but like my mom, I pushed my plate away. I suddenly felt exhausted. I had gone from euphoria when I had finally found a path for my future that felt right, to the worst kind of disappointment as it became clear that no one was going to support my decision.

The weeks that followed until graduation were a nightmare. I went to talk to a recruiter again, just to make sure I had all bases covered. I also tried to talk to my mom and dad – even Alice – but it was fruitless. My parents were convinced that I was ruining my life, and all Alice cared about was not falling out of grace like me. When I had first told Jasper about what I was planning, he had been supportive, and I had been relieved. Then Alice got to him, and suddenly he was as bad as my dad.

Everyone whose support I had expected had turned against me. Heidi, Alice, Jasper, and my parents. It did make me think twice about what it would be like going through whatever I encountered in the Army, but it didn't make me waver. I'd have to toughen up anyway.

Graduation was a farce and basically just a show for Alice's benefit. I was leaving by the end of July, but it was clear that no one wanted me to stay around even for that long. When Jasper proposed to Alice a few days after graduation, and my parents acted like the best thing that had ever happened to them was that their teenage daughter getting engaged, I packed my stuff. Enough was enough, and I didn't need to be made a fool of when I had done nothing to deserve it. It was like living in an absurd play on a stage, and I was ready for it all to stop.

When I drove away from Seattle and my home, I hadn't received any well-wishes or good lucks. I didn't know where I was going or where I'd spend the weeks until basic training. I was truly on my own for the first time in my life. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, just as my family's behavior made me both disappointed and stubborn to succeed. There were a lot of conflicting emotions running through me, but at that moment, the strongest one was pride in my decision. I'd done my research, so smiling to myself, I started singing.

_March along, sing our song, with the Army of the free.  
>Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory.<br>We're the Army and proud of our name!  
>We're the Army and proudly proclaim:<em>

_First to fight for the right,  
>And to build the Nation's might,<br>And The Army Goes Rolling Along.  
>Proud of all we have done,<br>Fighting till the battle's won,  
>And the Army Goes Rolling Along.<em>

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading and Happy New Year! Chapter 9 will be posted soon.


	3. Sugared Rose

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Twilight, or its characters, in any way, shape, or form. Stephenie Meyer does. Instead, we teach them to do tricks with promises of fudge.**  
><strong>

**A/N: **Thank you to sherryola for pre-reading and to nowforruin for beta'ing. This outtake was part of the Fandoms for ME compilation.

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><p><strong>SUGARED ROSE<strong>

I laughed as I tripped Emmett so he fell headfirst into a row of boxwood outside the diner. The sucker was so easy to mess with when his head was full of my mom's apple pie.

"Fucking hell, J!" he complained from inside the bushes, scrambling to get on his feet.

I chortled merrily and hurried inside. My dad was behind the counter, and I raised a hand in greeting. I then scanned the rest of the room, finding Bella, Leah, and Rose huddled together in a booth in the back, giggling about something. I had no idea how fourteen year old girls always found something to giggle about, but they seemed to be able to.

The bell on the door behind me chimed, and then I was suddenly on the receiving end of a noogie. _Fucking Emmett_.

"Ow! Shit, stop that, you moron!" I hissed and shoved him away.

"Jacob! Language," my mom told me, rushing past me with two trays filled with food. _Yum, coleslaw! _

"Sorry, Mom," I said, already wondering if maybe I should get coleslaw instead of apple pie. I'd have both – together – if I didn't know for a fact that my mom wouldn't like it.

"Wimp," Emmett muttered under his breath.

"Asshole," I shot back, leading the way up the counter.

He chuckled and pushed me junk-first into one of the bar stools at the counter. _Motherfucker_. I turned around to glare at him, but he just continued his stupid chuckling.

"You're such a fucki-"

My dad cleared his throat behind me, interrupting me and even killing Emmett's chuckling. Chastised, I turned around.

"Hey, Dad," I said and sat down on the stool that had fucking maimed me.

"Jake. Emmett. Nice to see you boys _behaving_ for once," he said, with narrowed eyes and a scowl on his face. You'd have to know him really well to see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

I grinned. "We always behave."

"What he said," Emmett said, sitting down next to me. "Say, did Mrs. S make apple pie today?"

My dad sighed. "Emmett, I have no idea why you come in here every damn day asking that same question. When has Sue ever _not_ made apple pie? She knows it would break your heart."

Emmett beamed. "I wish you and Mrs. S would adopt me. My mom can't cook for shi– um…at all."

I snorted. It wasn't like he didn't eat at the diner every day after school as well as on the weekends, spent at least a few nights a week at our house, and the guest bedroom wasn't called the guest bedroom anymore – now it was Emmett's room. His dad had bailed on him and his mom like fifteen years ago, and his mom was a flake. She had a hard time holding onto a job and drank way too much. Sometimes, she was just as embarrassing as the drunk who hit on my dad at the bar. _Gross_.

"You don't look like a starving boy, so I'm sure she cooks just fine," my dad commented dryly as he carved out two large pieces of my mom's fuckawesome apple pie. "So how did the biology test go? Are you keeping up your grades? Graduation is only six weeks away now."

"I fuc– um, freaking nailed it!" Emmett said confidently.

"Jake? How about you?" my dad asked.

I shrugged. "I think I did okay."

My dad rolled his eyes. "Your enthusiasm for doing well in school takes my breath away, son."

Emmett chortled and reached for the whipped cream. He liked to murder his pie by drowning it in it. He said it tasted better that way, but in my opinion he was just disrespecting the pie.

I took a bite and hummed in appreciation. "Spot on, Mom!" I yelled out to the back where she was busy cooking up a storm.

She stuck her head out and sent me one of her patented _thank-you-dear-but-please-don't-talk-with-your-mouth-full _looks. She had looks down to an art, and I was good at decoding them.

I focused on eating my pie – food was serious business, especially my mom's food – until Bella hopped onto the stool next to me and shoved her math book up next to my plate.

"Can you help me with this problem?" she asked, wide-eyed, knowing that it would get her anything she wanted.

I hated math, so I really wanted to say no. However, being a big brother was one of my favorite things in the world – I had loved it from the second I had laid my eyes on my tiny baby sister. Bella was four years younger than me, but she was one of my very best friends, and when she looked at me like I was her hero, there was no way I could let her down. Even if it was just a stupid math problem.

"Sure," I replied, abandoning my pie for a moment.

Luckily it wasn't like I didn't know the stuff from eight grade, and Bella was also a smart cookie, so she didn't need it explained twice. When she'd gotten it, she smiled brightly and jumped down from the stool.

"Thanks, Jake!" she said.

I reached out and ruffled her hair, which made her narrow her eyes and scowl at me. I laughed and turned back to my pie, which turned out to be a really unwise move, as seconds later, Bella yanked my hair.

"Hey!" I complained. _Shit_. I really needed a haircut so she couldn't so that anymore.

She scampered back to the giggle booth in the corner, and I glared playfully at them, making them giggle even more. Girls – such a mindboggling phenomenon. And based on my dad and Uncle Harry, who had had a long time to figure them out, they remained mysteries forever.

After polishing off two pieces of pie each, Emmett and I went to play soccer with some buddies at the park. Forks High School didn't have a soccer team, so we played at the park after school. Then sometimes we'd play against some of the kids down from the reservation, which was a lot of fun. I had some good friends down there, but there were also some real assholes that I always went out of my way to tackle the European way – _hard_. It usually ended up with someone getting into a fight, but it was a lot of fun.

Afterward, I drove Emmett home. He didn't have his own car although he'd been saving for one since he was fifteen. My dad had given him a job washing dishes at the diner a few afternoons a week, but often Emmett would have to dig into his savings to pay the bills for his stupid mom. He never complained, either, nor did he take my dad up on his offer when he said that he'd lend him the money. Emmett would rather walk or ride his bike than owe people money. I admired him for that and drove him around whenever I could get away with it. Walking was fine, but it sucked getting wet when it rained.

"Dude, Newton's parents are going away next weekend. He's getting his big brother to buy beer and throwing a party Saturday," Emmett said on the way home.

"Awesome," I said with a nod. "I can't stay out all night, though. The diner and the bar are like gossip central, so my parents will know that the Newtons are away."

"Sucks," Emmett replied, fiddling with the radio. He could do whatever the hell he wanted – it wasn't like his mom cared when or if he came home. "But we'll have fun and make sure that you sober up by the time you have to be home. No problemos. I wonder if Jessica will be there. I don't know when the hell she grew those boobs, but it's like it happened overnight. I am so getting my hands on those!"

I snorted. A girl could be ugly as sin, but if she had nice boobs, Emmett would all over her. Personally, I liked a pretty smile and a charming personality. Okay, and boobs. Nice legs didn't hurt either. And a great ass. Sadly, that combination was hard to find in Forks. Emmett definitely had it easier.

I'd sampled quite a bit of the local talent, and I wasn't impressed. Besides, nothing short of a harem was enough for Jacob Swan. The girls all wanted me – all I had to do was smile at them – so that shouldn't be too difficult to accomplish. Life was too short to settle for something that you didn't want. So I'd smile at all the pretty girls in the world and get them all. If that wasn't ambition, I didn't know what was.

After dropping Emmett off, I arrived home just in time for dinner. It smelled like we were having roasted chicken. _Yum_. My favorite. Well, one of my favorites. My mom made it hard to choose.

After dinner, I went to my room to do some homework. I couldn't wait for graduation. I wouldn't be touching a book for a very long time after that. I hadn't applied to any colleges, and it was a foregone conclusion that I was going to join the Army. I just hadn't actually said it out loud to anyone. I wasn't sure why – I didn't doubt that everyone would be supportive, even if they wouldn't like it. My mom would especially hate it, as it meant that I'd be going overseas eventually. But she'd still be supportive because I had the most awesome mom like that. I was pretty sure that my dad would be proud, and Bella…well, I had no idea how she would react. She was a good kid, though, so she wouldn't give me too much grief.

Emmett had gotten into the University of Washington, but lately he'd expressed an interest in joining the Army, too. It would be fucking awesome of we could attend boot camp together. Whether or not _his_ mom would be supportive depended on how drunk she was when he told her, but I knew that he'd be getting plenty of support from my parents.

After getting the Army bug out of my body – that was what my dad called his own stint in the Army before he married my mom – I'd come back home and work at the bar. I could take some business classes at the community college in Port Angeles if I needed them, but other than that, I'd be set at the bar. I didn't have a lot of fancy ambitions about college degrees, careers, or money. That crap just wasn't me. None of it was necessary to be happy.

Halfway through my homework, I needed a break. I hated being cooped up inside too long at a time, so I needed some fresh air. To my surprise, I found Rose sitting on the porch.

"Hey there, Goldilocks. What are you doing out here?" I asked with a smile and sat down next to her.

I liked Rose. She was hands down the most awkward, shy, and clumsy person I had ever met, but she was also sweet, awfully pretty, and my sister's best friend. Well, hell. She was my friend, too. My best little buddy. I didn't get the people who always judged everyone by their age – having friends that weren't your own age just offered you new and exciting perspectives on life. Among the people I counted as my best friends were a couple of fourteen year old girls, my grandpa, and my parents.

"Your mom said Bella had to finish her essay before she could hang out with me, so I figured I'd just wait out here until she was done," she said, fidgeting with her sleeves. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is," I assured her. "You can go inside, too, if you want. I think Mom's making cookies."

"I like it out here," she said quietly. "It's more peaceful than my house, you know, with our porch facing Main Street and all."

I nodded. The Hales were a pretentious bunch, save the shy girl at my side. Her dad was a bank manager and her mom had her own architectural firm in Port Angeles. They were a little too into material possessions and appearances for my taste, and it couldn't be easy being a clumsy little girl in their house. Rose's three older sisters had all moved away and gotten married to lawyers and doctors or whatever. Like Emmett, Rose liked to spend time here as often as possible.

"So, are you looking forward to being chased by high school boys next year?" I asked her. "A pretty little thing like you won't be left alone for a second."

She blushed furiously. "They won't notice me," she said.

"Ha! You'll be beating them off with a stick. Bella, too. Leah I'm not so sure about because she never knows when to shut up," I said, snorting.

I didn't like that my baby sister would be going to high school just as I'd graduated. The only consolation I had was that she could pull hair like nobody's business and that Rose packed a mean punch for a girl her size. I knew that from experience when I'd played pranks on them.

Rose didn't reply. She just looked down as she flexed her fingers on one hand. She'd just gotten her latest cast off a few days earlier after breaking two fingers in a gym mishap. The poor girl was always falling down and getting hurt. A few years ago, a new teacher at the school had even suspected her parents of abusing her because she always had bruises.

"You'll do fine in high school, you know that, right?" I asked.

She shrugged, showing that her confidence was nonexistent.

I sighed inaudibly. "Well, if anyone gives you any crap, you just tell them that you know a big, bad soldier who will come and kick their ass, okay?"

That made her look up. "You're really going?"

"Yeah. I am," I confirmed out loud for the first time. "Gotta go where the heart takes you, right?"

"I guess," she replied hesitantly. "Is it because your dad was in the Army that you want to go, too?"

"It's part of it, for sure," I said. "But I also really want to serve my country and help people, you know? Make a difference somewhere for someone. I'm not interested in titles and rank and stuff, so I'm not going to make a career of it, but I think a private makes as much of a difference as a colonel. Besides, could you really see me in college? Apart from the frat parties, of course. I'd rock those suckers."

She giggled and bit her lip. Then she turned around so she was facing me, her blue eyes looking solemnly at me. "But it's so dangerous if you go somewhere where there's a war going on."

"Someone has to. If they didn't, the war might come here and hurt or kill all the people we love," I replied.

"Aren't you scared at all?"

"Naw," I said. "Okay, maybe a little. But that's what basic training is for. They'll teach me to defend myself and stuff."

"But what if you die?" she whispered.

I shrugged. I knew I would be risking my life if I went into a warzone, but like I'd just told her – someone had to do it. And I wasn't afraid of dying. When it was your time to go, there wasn't much you could do about. Dying while fighting a war didn't make me anymore dead than if I got hit by a truck or died from cancer right here in Forks.

"If I die, I just hope that I lived all I could while I had the chance," I said to her.

I leaned back on my elbows and tried to imagine my own funeral. It was fucking difficult. I didn't want to think about how sad my family would be – that was the worst thing. But if I did die in a war somewhere, I hoped it was after making a difference and that the people I loved were proud of me.

"I want Jeff Buckley's 'Hallelujah' played at my funeral," I said out loud the moment I thought of it. It felt like planning something that had nothing to do with me – a very weird feeling.

"Jake, please," Rose begged me.

I turned my head just in time to see her wipe a tear away from her cheek.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Rosie," I apologized. I tugged her ponytail. "Don't listen to my crap. I'll be fine and back here to pull pranks on you in no time. You'll be so busy swatting away the high school boys that you won't even notice I'm gone."

"I'm going to miss you," she said quietly. "And you have to promise to be careful no matter what the Army wants you to do. My dad once told me about his uncle who was in the Navy and died during a drill."

"Well, I'm not joining the Navy," I replied with a grin.

"Jake, be serious!" she said, showing that glorious temper hiding under her shy, awkward façade. She was like a cute, little kitten, and I was immediately chastised.

"Sorry. I promise that I'll be careful," I said solemnly, knowing I'd be making that promise to others as well.

"When are you telling Bella that you're going?" Rose asked next. "She's been wondering, you know? Your parents already talked to her about it."

"They have?" I asked, surprised.

She nodded. "Everyone knows you're going, but you're the only one who hasn't talked about it. Bella said that your mom cried a little bit, but she and your dad are both so proud of you. Bella is, too, although she said that she might give you crap about it anyway – said it was her right as your little sister."

I chuckled. "I'll talk to her soon. All of them, actually."

We sat in silence for a while. I could smell the cookies my mom was making, and my dad was mowing the lawn around back. I was going to miss it. Not just the people, but the house, the town, and everything that was familiar. I had never dreamed of big cities and seeing the world – Forks was enough for me. I just had one little thing to accomplish before settling down for real in the best town in the world. I needed to be a soldier.

"Um, Jake?" Rose interrupted my thoughts.

"Yeah?" I replied, sitting back up.

"Emmett is going, too, isn't he?" she asked timidly. "I heard him mention it to your dad one day."

I nodded. "I think so. He's been talking about it. It's going to be wicked awesome!"

The defeated look on her face told me that she didn't share my enthusiasm. At all. In fact, had it been any other occasion, I would have taken a crack at her. Rose was nothing but Bella's friend on Emmett's radar, but it was suddenly plain as day that on Rose's radar, the blip Emmett created was as big as his appetite. It couldn't be easy for a fourteen year old to watch her first crush heading off to join the Army.

"He's going to be okay, too, you know," I said.

Her nod was less than convincing, but unless I called her out on what she was obviously feeling, there was nothing I could say.

"If you really have to go away, you have to come back safely," she said a moment later. "Both of you."

"I'll make sure he comes back alive," I promised her.

Her head whipped around, and she looked at me while the blush rose in her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but promptly shut it again before any words came out. She leaned her head forward so her hair covered her cheeks.

"_Both_ of you," she implored softly.

"Both of us," I agreed, smiling to myself.

We sat in silence until Bella burst out through the door. "Finally!" she said exasperatedly. "My essay's done, so we can go now, Rose. Thanks for waiting."

"No problem," Rose replied and stood up, wobbling a little on the steps before she regained her balance.

"Oh, and Mom's looking for you, Jake," Bella added as she jumped down the steps in complete contrast to Rose's wobbling. "She knows you haven't finished your homework."

"And how does she know that?" I asked, suspiciously.

"Because I told her," Bella said, snickering.

"Brat!" I called after her as she and Rose scampered off toward God knew where – probably a giggle convention by the sounds of it.

"Love you, too, Jakey!" Bella yelled back.

I blew out a breath and smiled. It was in her genes to be a brat, and usually when she got other people in trouble. I was the proudest brother in the world. I'd trained my little sister well.

"Jacob!" I heard my mom yell.

"Yes, Mom! Coming!" I yelled back.

At least I was well-prepared to join the Army, having been raised by my very own drill sergeant.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Damned If You Do

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Twilight, or its characters, in any way, shape, or form. Stephenie Meyer does. Instead, we teach them to do tricks with promises of fudge.

**A/N**: We want to thank the amazing Dust story team, nowforruin and sherryola, the work they did with this outtake.

We're pretty sure you guys have been wondering why the diva is never allowed to recite one of our poems in the mains story. Well, this outtake will finally shed some like on to that mystery, and we never claimed the diva had any talent. Even if *ahem* he lives in an imaginary world where he does. Enjoy!

The link to our blog with all banners, pictures, and other goodies is on our profile.

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><p><strong>DAMNED IF YOU DO<strong>

**Charlie POV**

"Well, I'll let you know," I said to the applicant sitting in front of me.

I stood up and shook the young man's hand, watching him turn to walk out the door. As I sat back down in my office chair, I looked down on my desk. The man I'd just interviewed, Laurent, would make a fine bartender. He'd gone to one of the top bartending schools in the state and didn't even blink when I quizzed him on drink recipes. His work record was impeccable, meaning he was a stable employee. There was just one problem—I knew my daughter would run him off as soon as she saw him. I cursed that bastard, Embry, once again.

I had lost three bartenders for the same reason. Bella hadn't been able to handle working with men because her worthless, piece of scum ex had abused her to the point where she had been afraid of them. She had tried to play it off and act all tough, but a father knew when his baby girl was pretending.

Whoever I hired would only be temporary. Once my boy Jake was discharged from the Army, he would work for the family business and run the bar. Hiring the guy kind of seemed like a waste. I was desperate, though. Downstairs had really picked up in the last couple of months, becoming a strain for just Bella and me to run. We had been killing ourselves trying to keep up with the pace, and the wife was beginning to complain about it.

"You're not as young as you used to be," she griped at me one night after I came home from a brutal shift. "I'm not going to be a widow because you had a heart attack caused by your stubborn ass. Hire another employee, damn it!"

I'd leaned over the years that when Sue started bitching, it was time to listen. I still had the scar on my shoulder from the last time I had blown her off. I had been a stupid twenty-five year old that hadn't thought his wife's opinion counted back then. A valuable lesson had been taught that day…always heed your spouse's words. Otherwise you ended up with a gash in your shoulder and a severe case of blue balls. And I never blamed her for it, because the hit to my shoulder hadn't been intentional. She still made me sleep out on the couch so I'd know she wasn't happy with me, guilt or no.

So, being a wonderful husband, I had set up some interviews that afternoon before the bar opened. As I'd met with the prospective employees, there were two things I had to keep in mind—what the wife had wanted, or had demanded, depending on which perspective you looked at, but also I had to remember Bella's aversions. It was too bad all of the applicants had been men.

God officially hated me since no woman in town wanted to work there. I guessed my girl was not only intimidating to the males, but the females feared her, as well.

_I am up a shit creek without a paddle. The Vietcong I fought back in Nam would be more appealing than dealing with this nonsense. _

I shuffled the papers on my desk, looking out the open office door to see if my last interview was going to show. The applicant's name was James, but I was hoping the person turned out to be a woman. The application had been filled out with some kind of sparkly purple ink. No respectable man would do something like that, I'd reasoned, when it had first come across my desk. Besides, names hadn't meant squat in years. I'd heard of some gal named James who was an actress or something.

I sighed. The whole damn world was going to shit.

I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, so I abandoned my task and waited. In walked a man—_damn it_—carrying a fucking purple suitcase. I furrowed my brow, wondering what the hell the guy was playing at. He set it down in the chair facing the other side of my desk and turned toward me. He had on a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark blue jeans—_are those fucking hip huggers? Bella wears that shit. Is this dude insane?_ He was wearing brown cowboy boots with silver tips on the ends, too. I feared for my safety in that moment, because I was sure the mental institute in Seattle had had some kind of field trip that day, and they'd forgot one of their crazies.

"Hello there, sir. My name is James, and I'm going to demonstrate why I am the perfect choice for the job." his formal tone was destroyed by the fluttering of his hands. "It's always been a dream of mine to work in a bar."

He bent down and opened his suitcase, pulling out some bottles of vodka.

"Okay, so when I was doing some research watching Cocktail, I learned that the most important thing is knowing how to juggle bottles of liquor. Everyone loves theatrics, plus Tom Cruise is a fine looking man. Gorgeous hunks never lie to you," James had a dreamy look in his eye as he explained.

I sat back and watched as that idiot began tossing bottles up in the air. Only, he didn't catch them—they crashed to the floor, breaking open and letting the alcohol out to soak the carpet.

"Well," he mused, pouting his lips. "That was disappointing. It looked much easier when I watched the movie last night."

"Listen, uh, James," I said, having seen enough.

"Oh, but you haven't witnessed the best part yet!" The insane man rummaged through his case again and pulled out a pink notebook.

"Everyone knows that a good bartender knows how to recite poetry. The best ones are always the kind he makes up himself," James reasoned with a nod.

_Is it because I ate the last piece of pie this afternoon for lunch? Is this the reason you're punishing me, God?_

James opened his notebook, flipping through the pages. He hemmed and hawed as he looked over the contents. I rubbed my forehead, trying to keep the vein from popping as I thought of a way to get the moron out of my office. I wondered if the rags in the storage closet would be enough to clean up the mess. I was not looking forward to picking up the glass and sweeping the carpet. The damn thing had just been steam cleaned last week, and it looked like I was going to have to call those boys again. Maybe I could do it myself by renting one of those machines. It couldn't be that hard.

A throat clearing pulled me out of my thoughts. Jackass James was _standing_ on one of my fucking chairs, holding that notebook. Boy didn't realize he was close to getting shot in the ass with the gun I kept behind the bar.

"I'd like to read you a poem I wrote last night titled, _Ode to Tom_." He cleared his throat and smacked his lips.

_Oh, fair Tom, why art thou so pretty? _

_People call you crazy_

_I think you're just misunderstood_

_You are too bright for all the haters_

_Who want to mock your religion_

_And call you a joke_

_But you're in league with all the greats_

_Such as Brad, George, and that hunky elf Orlando_

_However, you can't touch Miss M because she's divine_

_Sublime_

_Oh, what a crime_

_You are not tied to my bed_

_Or, on your knees, sucking my—_

"Enough!" I shouted, not interested in the rest of what that mess said. He hopped—_fucking hopped_!—down from the chair with a pout.

"Boo, you're no fun. You seem a little tense. Maybe my magic fingers," he said, wiggling them, "can pull you out of that bad mood."

"I am a happily married man!" I could feel my blood pressure rise. "To a woman. A large breasted woman. What the fuck is your problem?"

"Fine," he said, sighing. "I'll quit thinking of you as my manly, rugged Sugar Daddy. It's too bad, too. That mustache completes the look."

"Get out," I stormed, jumping up from my chair. I was five seconds away from killing my first person as a civilian.

"Oh, but I haven't gotten to the best part, Love Lump." A huge grin broke out on James' face.

"I'm gonna give you a lump if you don't leave my sight." I paced behind my desk, trying to tell myself murder was a bad thing.

"I promise. You will be dazzled, amazed, and probably dumbstruck," James promised.

He ran over to his case of horrors, as I'd come to call it in my head in the last few minutes. Pulling out another bottle of vodka, I rolled my eyes. Jackass couldn't juggle the first time, and I was confident he couldn't the second either. I sat back down and sighed, wondering when my torture would end.

_Guess I might as well wait. More alcohol to add to the puddle. Oh, goodie. _

I tilted backward in my seat, ready to tune him out. That idea was tossed when he pulled out a metal rod with a small cloth tied around it and a lighter. The sight had me curious and afraid of what the fool was going to do next.

"The one skill a bartender has that is always guaranteed to wow his employers and customers is fire breathing," As the last word was said, he lit the cloth, causing it to ignite.

I jumped up and ran over to James, trying to stop him from whatever cockamamie plan he had thought up.

"Give me that!" I yelled.

I lunged for it, pulling it out of his hand as it got closer to his mouth. I ran out of the office, dropping it in the mop bucket. It went out with a hiss, and I breathed a sigh of relief. That nut job had almost burned down my bar. With all of the alcohol spilled on the carpet, one wrong move could have set the whole place on fire.

I was officially pissed.

I marched back toward my office, ready to tear the guy a new asshole. No one messed with Charlie Swan's bar. Intentional or not.

When I walked inside, James was standing in front of the television I had set up and some movie with bartenders was on. He had that damn note book with him, but he also looked like he was taking notes. I was ready to kill that son of a bitch.

"Oh, Tom, why did you let me down?" he pleaded to the screen. "Your delicious ass has steered me wrong."

"It's time for you to go, James." I'd had enough.

"Oh, damn it," he complained, still staring at the television. "The only thing left for me to do is find a drag queen, knock him up, and then run away to the big city. Tom has not left me with many other options here."

"Get out before I shoot you!" Maybe I didn't need my shot gun. I kept one in the safe for emergency purposes. A bullet was a bullet. Shooting him with a .22 would have to be enough.

"This is going to be such a sacrifice. Men who tuck their cocks are not my style. For the sake of landing this job, though, I will do it. Tom better believe he will be owing me for this," James mused.

I was about ready to lose it. _A man should not have to deal with this much stress_. It was a crime against nature, America, and decency. Where did that freak come from anyway? He was not normal and probably insane, just like I had originally thought.

There was no way in hell I was hiring that man…crazy person…_thing_. He would run off all of my customers, and then I'd be forced to close down the place. Sure, I'd still have the diner. Where would I go, though, to shoot the shit with my friends or even find a decent glass of bourbon? Nowhere, that's where. I was going to shoot him, hide the body, and make his paperwork disappear to cover my tracks. James was about to go bye-bye.

"Charlie, are you almost finished?" a voice broke me from my murder plans. I turned and saw my wife, Sue, standing in the doorway. Sweet mother of God, the woman had impeccable timing. I was going to be sweet and loving when we went to bed that night.

"Okay, James, we'll let you know." I was hoping to save face in front of my wife. Even though every fiber of my being was screaming at me to kill.

"What's that smell?" Sue asked.

"Ah, it's nothing." I tripped over my words, forgetting about the idiot's attempts at juggling. Damn it, I was hoping to get all that cleaned up before she came in there.

"And, why is there broken glass all over the floor? Are those from bottles? Charlie, what the hell is going on?" Sue's voice steadily rose with each question she asked.

"Oh, don't yell at your husband, lovely. That's my fault. I tried to impress him, but things went wrong. I'll clean it up." James sulked away from the television, his shoulders slumped.

"Oh, dear. I hope no one was hurt," my wife said, fussing.

"No one was hurt. Just a little mishap. So, Charlie, do I have the job? I'm ready to start wowing the customers." James looked at me hopefully.

"There will be no _wowing_ anyone. You almost set my bar on fire, you psycho!" I yelled, reaching my limit with that clown.

"Charlie." Sue used the voice reserved for our children. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me? Ask him! He comes in here, breaks bottles, soaks my carpet, reads me a poem that will give me nightmares for years, hits on me, and then about sets the bar on fire! That's what the matter with me is!" I was panting at the end of my rant.

"Charles Richard Swan!" Sue yelled.

I cringed, knowing I was in trouble. She'd pulled out the middle name, and it only happened when she thought I was being unreasonable or stupid.

"How dare you. You do not yell at me like that." And there was her you-crossed-a-line tone. Double damn.

She turned toward James, leveling her _don't mess with me face_ on him. I wanted to dance around in celebration, because no one could fool my wife. She was notorious for weeding through the bullshit people gave her. It was almost like a scary ability to read people. Psycho James was on his way out the door and out of my life forever.

"Explain what is going on. Now," Sue said, leaving no room to argue.

James hung his head. "I just…I…I thought if I could do some of the things they do on Cocktail, I would be a shoo in for the job. I just moved here from Georgia, and I don't have anywhere else to go."

James started sniffling. _Oh, lord. Is he crying?_

"My parents don't want anything to do with me because I'm gay. I thought that if I found a nice, small town that was accepting of gay people, then I'd be able to settle down. Oh, Mrs. Swan, please don't make me go back." He fell to his knees and clasped his hands together as he wailed.

I smirked as Sue looked him over. That had been a great sob story, but after seeing all of the crazy from earlier, I knew it was all a lie. She'd see right through him, and then I'd finally get rid of the idiot.

He stood back up and started bawling, muttering about how he'd have to live in his car and ranting about the unfairness of it all. He cried about how pretty men shouldn't have to suffer like that. Then, he moaned about eating out of trash cans. It was all I could do to not roll my eyes.

"Go upstairs and order yourself something to eat. I'll be up in a bit to let them know it's on me." She walked over to him, giving him a hug.

My jaw hit the floor. _Oh, this guy is good. Really good._ I couldn't wait to hear what she would say once he was gone.

James left the room, wiping his hand across his nose as he walked out. I waited until he was out of sight before I turned to look at my wife. I expected to see her smile or even a smirk. What I got instead was a scowl. _Oh, I am so screwed_.

"You are hiring that young man." Sue stared me down.

"Like hell I am." I crossed my arms, standing my ground.

"We are not letting him live out on the street when we have an extra apartment open, and a job he can work at," she countered with a glare.

"Sue, it's not going to happen," I warned, trying to intimidate her with my own gaze.

And then my balls wanted to crawl up into my belly, because my lovely Sue had leveled the mother of all death glares at me. It was the kind of look that every husband knew—I had just lost the argument. Fuck me sideways if that didn't piss me off.

"He's going to run out every customer we have. And then where will we be? Out on our asses, that's what." I tried to appeal to her logical side.

"Knock it off. We could live off of the profits from the diner alone. We keep this bar open for you to have a place to hang out with your friends. Not to mention, give the people of Forks a place to drink at other than The Pit over in Port Angeles. Honestly, I don't see how Marcus still has that place open. Everyone knows that he waters down the liquor and rarely washes the glasses."

I narrow my eyes. She just had to bring up that sorry excuse of a man, didn't she? Sue was well aware of how much I hated Marcus, and his one-health-code-violation-away-from-closing establishment. The prick was always sneaking into town and handing out coupons, trying to steal my business. That bastard was lucky he hadn't been shot yet.

"What about when Jake comes home? We won't need him then," I said, smirking.

"We are doing well enough with both businesses that we can afford to hire and keep the poor man. I'm ashamed of you. He needs our help." Sue shook her head in exasperation and countered my argument.

"Fine, but if Bella disagrees, he's out. I'm not having her uncomfortable." I had to give up. I was out of ammunition.

"That's all right by me. However, I'm confident he'll be staying. She needs someone to pull her out of her funk, and I think James is just what she needs." Sue voice brightened, and a smile pulled at her lips.

I seriously doubted my wife's prediction, but I would humor her. If there was any way I could keep from sleeping on the couch, I was going to take it. A man needed his own bed.

We walked up the back steps into the diner. Sue disappeared into the back, probably to let Leah know that James was eating for free, I assumed. I turned and saw my nightmare sitting in one of the back booths, eating. I figured I'd go ahead and get it over with.

I walked over and stood beside him. James looked up, smiling. I grimaced as I slid into the seat across from him.

"So, uh, we're going to give you a trial run," I started to say, running my hand over my face.

My words were cut off by the over active man when he jumped out of the booth, practically lunging at me to hug me. I shook him off, uncomfortable by his actions.

"Oh, thank you. I promise, you won't be disappointed. You know what the place needs? A stripper pole. You know, I could get you a lot more business if I could shake my money maker. I took this class back in Atlanta—it was a stripper-cise class—and I learned how to—" he began to ramble.

"Do you want to die?" I huffed in frustration. "I am seconds from making it happen. Just…shut up and listen."

He went back to his side of the booth—_thank fucking God_—and sat down. Then he made the motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key. _If only it was that simple_, I mused silently.

"Now, like I said before I was interrupted, we're giving you a trial run. Our daughter, Bella, is the other bartender. She's, well, not good with men. She'll probably give you hell, but if you can survive working with her, you have a job." I really hoped he was listening, because it was the only time I was going to explain it.

"And we're throwing in an apartment as part of your salary if you pass, too," Sue mentioned as she slid into the booth next to me.

Damn woman didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. I wasn't going to reveal that particular detail until we'd gotten past the trial period. However, my _wife_ had just given him a reason to try harder. _Damn it all to hell_.

The moron bounced in his seat, clapping his hands. "Oh, I won't let you down, I promise."

_Yeah_, I thought. _Just wait until you meet Bella_.


End file.
